And, as if feeling that she was the cause of the trouble, Linny gave her such a look of tender sympathy that poor Mary was obliged to crouch down quite low on the floor again, and hug herself tight, and rock to and fro. Immediately after, though, she was hastily wiping her eyes on the silken strings of her bonnet, which she tore off and sent flying to the other end of the room before dashing at me and giving me a hug, and then going down on her knees by Revitts' pillow, and laying her cheek against his bandaged forehead. "My poor old boy," she whispered softly, "as if I could stay a minute from him!" The next moment she was up, and giving a great gulp, as if to swallow down the emotion caused by Revitts' appearance, she forced a smile upon her face, completely transforming it, and quickly but quietly dashed at her basket. "I hadn't time to do much, my dears," she said to Linny and me collectively: "but I thought a pair o' soles and a chicken must be right for the poor boy. Now, if you'll only tell me where he keeps his pepper and salt, and the frying-pan and saucepans, I can get on. My sakes, poor boy, what a muddle he did live in, to be sure!" We had to stop Mary in her culinary preparations by assuring her that the doctor had ordered only beef-tea. "Then he may have chicken-broth, my dears," she said; "I'm an old nuss, you know, though I wouldn't attend to Mr Blakeford--eh, Master Antony?--for fear I should give him his lotion for outward application inside. But I can nuss, and not a step do I stir from this floor till I've made my poor old Bill well. Oh, if I only knew who done it!" she cried, with a flash of fierce rage; and as she glanced at Linny, the latter shrank away guiltily. Mary read her action wrongly, and plumped herself once more at the poor girl's feet. "Don't you mind me, my dear!" she cried kissing her hands and her dress. "I'm a stupid, rough, jealous thing, and I was all on fire then, but I'm not now, and I humbly ask your pardon; as I says, God bless you, for coming to help my poor dear boy!" There was another burst of sobbing here, and another embrace, when Mary jumped up again, all smiles, to apply a little fresh ice to the patient's head, and gently coo over him, as if he were a baby. After which, and having satisfied herself that the chicken-broth was progressing favourably, poor Mary felt it her duty to plump at Linny's feet again, but she jumped up in confusion, as she heard the stairs crack as if some one were coming, and then she looked inquiringly at me, as the door softly opened and Hallett came in. "Mr Hallett," I said, "this is my dear old Mary, Mr Revitts' friend, and she's come up to nurse him. Mary, this is Miss Hallett's brother." "Which I'm glad to see him," said Mary, making a bob, and then growing redder in the face as she glanced at Linny, as if afraid that her late ebullition would be exposed.